


Movin' In (and Movin' On)

by Rhaized



Series: Adventures of Mary and Marisa [12]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And so is Marisa Coulter, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Marisa has too much stuff, Marisa is very sad, Moving In Together, Science girlfriends working it out together, life is complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaized/pseuds/Rhaized
Summary: Marisa decides to officially move into Mary's house. As she does so, Mary learns that it's not exactly easy having Marisa Coulter completely dominate your life and that, in a lot of ways, Marisa is still in a lot of pain.—or—Marisa is amusing and over the top and impossible but also just really, really sad.
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter, Marisa Coulter/Mary Malone
Series: Adventures of Mary and Marisa [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073954
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Movin' In (and Movin' On)

When Mary heard a piercing scream come from the direction of the bathroom, she knew it meant one of two things: Marisa was getting attacked by someone  _ or _ Marisa saw some kind of bug on the bathroom tile. She threw her cup of coffee down and sprinted through the hallway, hesitating just one moment by the door before bursting inside.

"What's the matter?" Mary called, looking down at the floor toward the golden monkey. He was sitting in the corner picking at his claws and merely rolled his eyes at her, nodding toward the shower curtain. 

"You only have  _ clarifying shampoo  _ in here?" came Marisa's voice, cross and high-pitched. 

"Oh my God.” Mary leaned against the sink and simply gazed down at the monkey, who stared back with a scrunched nose and his head lifted high into the air. Mary scoffed at him, too, and shook her head. "Marisa, I thought something  _ bad  _ happened to you."

"This  _ is  _ bad." The curtain moved and then Marisa was sticking her head out from the shower, her black hair wet and slicked down flat against her head. Her blue eyes flashed as she frowned. "You can't use this nonsense, Mary. It'll dry your hair out and create buildup on your scalp. I left my bag of products and  _ this  _ is what I have to use? This is what  _ you  _ use?" 

"Oh, Marisa.”

"No, Mary," Marisa insisted. She leaned forward even more so that she was almost halfway out of the shower now, the water running and steaming behind her. Mary couldn't help but skim quickly over her curves and the way they glistened with water droplets. "This has to change. We need to have well-treated hair in this household. I won't allow us to look like  _ hags." _

Mary left her there, ignoring her pleas for her to stop and come back with at least something less harmful for her scalp like baking soda and vinegar. The golden monkey followed Mary out, actually, and although he didn't say anything, the look he gave her said it all before he reached up and took her hand as she returned to the kitchen. 

Mary and Marisa had been seeing each other for several months now, after a very terse and strangled agreement for both Marisa and Lyra to settle down in this world. It started off neutrally enough, with Marisa staying in hotels and working with Mary in the lab before there became something  _ more  _ between them. The situation with Lyra was complicated, though—she lived with Will and  _ his  _ mother, as well as started at a new school and was trying to adopt a new, normal life. Marisa saw her occasionally, but not in the manner that she would like, which caused her to work around the clock to busy herself and avoid the pain that still ached her heart. 

In many ways Marisa obsessed over things in order to forget about the more painful ones. It was a pattern Mary noticed early on in their relationship and felt a bit bothered by, but Marisa had grown  _ tremendously  _ the more time she spent in this world (and spent with Mary). She'd learned to stop and reflect on her actions and actually consider how others might feel, even though they were still working toward exercising actual  _ empathy _ that could inform her activities _.  _ And now Marisa finally reached a point where she was ready to move on and move forward. In just an hour she was going to bring all of her things over and officially move in with Mary, commencing the next stage of what they  _ all _ —Lyra included—thought would be a better life for her. 

While Marisa was out collecting her things to bring back, Mary made some preparations around the house. She didn't know exactly how many things Marisa had, but she knew it couldn't be too much. She'd been living in this world for less than a year, after all, and it was still unclear to Mary how she even had money (did she sell things from her world, and was she even able to go  _ back  _ to her own world?). She made some space in the closet, squishing her clothes together and pushing them all off to the left side. She did the same with her dresser, consolidating her drawers so that she had two and Marisa had two. Finally, Mary cleared off a couple shelves in the medicine cabinet, shoving the miscellaneous items she had either in the trash or under the sink somewhere. 

When Marisa came back, however, Mary could only gasp. 

"This is what you're moving in?" she asked, watching as Marisa and some men (where did they even come from?!) hopped out of a large van. 

"Of course, darling," Marisa said smoothly, flashing her a smile as a pair of men came up to the door with what looked like a small bench. 

"What's—" 

"For the end of the bed," Marisa explained. She stood in front of Mary and absolutely beamed, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "I thought the room could use a splash of style."

"Did you  _ buy  _ it?" Mary felt stunned. "I thought you were just bringing things you already had. I...I didn't mean for you to, like,  _ buy  _ things." 

"I am bringing my own things," said Marisa, her eyes shining and her voice as light as the way the men carried the wooden bench. Her gaze then softened as she ran a finger across Mary's cheek. "Don't fret, dear. This is going to be so wonderful."

In addition to the bench, Marisa brought some  _ other  _ pieces of furniture and Mary still didn't know exactly where they came from. Hotels weren't  _ really  _ places where one gradually obtained furniture, were they? She watched with an open mouth as the men kept picking things up and carrying them over to the house, Marisa telling them where to go and what to do and how to do it. Mary wondered  _ what  _ she was getting herself into and what Marisa was  _ doing.  _

"This simply won't do." 

They'd gotten all the furniture inside now, with Marisa being  _ exact  _ and  _ precise  _ in where the men placed them and they were now huddled over a series of boxes. They were marked with Marisa's tidy handwriting, with a frilly little "k" or "b" or "lr" penned neatly on the label. The men were gone now (and Marisa had handed them a small stash of bills— _ where did those come from?!)  _ and it was just the two of them going through the contents and figuring out where they should go. 

"No, no,  _ here,"  _ Marisa would correct as Mary placed something away in the kitchen. She tried not to be too defensive about it, but Mary felt a bit irked as Marisa swooped in and essentially rearranged the entire kitchen, which had been Mary's kitchen for  _ several  _ years now and which Mary thought ought to  _ count  _ for something. But she held her tongue and let Marisa do as she wished, as Mary knew this was still a big ordeal and a big step for Marisa. She wanted to make the process as comfortable as possible for her. That's what they  _ all  _ wanted for Marisa: for her to adjust and to be happy. For once in her entire life, perhaps. 

Once the kitchen was done, they moved on the other random assortments. Marisa was standing in front of the spare room’s closet, after having finished setting aside all of the bigger furniture and her own clothes over in their bedroom. She was quiet as she bent over a smaller box. She didn't say anything as her fingers trailed the cardboard corners, circling the center of it with a lazy circle. There was a fancy little "L" scrawled over in one of the corners. 

"What's that one?" Mary asked, although she was almost afraid to find out. The entire day had been filled with nothing but surprises and impossibilities as Marisa had so much  _ stuff  _ that, again, didn't seem reasonable for her to have gathered during her limited time in this world. 

Marisa didn't say anything. She simply kept gazing down at the box. The golden monkey was more subdued, too, as he sat stoically by her side, also staring at the cardboard. This was serious, Mary could tell. Marisa didn't often  _ do " _ serious" like this, so she was being quite stiff and awkward. 

"It's Lyra's things," Marisa said quietly once Mary came closer to her. A thick tension filled the air, as well as a wave of such aching sadness. It almost took Mary's breath away, the despair that seeped from Marisa's eyes and face and entire being. 

"Lyra's things?" Mary repeated. She again wondered where and how Marisa exactly got this, as she was fairly sure Lyra hadn't lived with her since more than a year ago back in her own London. But she didn't say anything as she looked at Marisa's face. It was smooth but twisted with a strangled sort of pain. This was hard for her, and it was an important moment for her to confront. 

"I thought that maybe we could…set up the spare room for her, in case she ever decides to stay over with us?" 

There was a small tremor in her voice, even as her eyes remained cool and calm. She looked childlike almost as she looked over at Mary, wishing and hoping. 

Mary sighed then, as she knew Marisa wouldn't like hearing what she had to say. Lyra would not be coming over to stay the night or visit in the ways Marisa wanted. The terms of all of their arrangements were quite clear: Lyra lived with Will's mom, Lyra regularly met with Mary and kept her up to date on her life, and Lyra very selectively had phone conversations and, once every so often, a supervised visit with Marisa. That was it. That was how it would be until Lyra herself decided otherwise, which Mary frankly didn't see happening for quite some time (if at all). 

There was so much pain between them. Mary had felt that the first time she ever met Marisa, when she was pretending to be staying with Lyra and searching desperately for any shred of information about her. There was a certain  _ hunger  _ apparent in the way Marisa asked and listened about Lyra. There was also a stark sense of sadness as Marisa adjusted to a new world that was essentially one both with  _ and _ without Lyra. It must be so painful for her, and Mary tried to be considerate of that and to understand. But as the therapists said, denying reality was not productive, either. It was all a balance. 

"Marisa," Mary began, stepping closer yet still keeping a little distance, "I'm not sure that's the best idea."

"Why not?" Marisa asked, her tone a bit  _ sharper  _ than it had been before. Mary looked down over at the golden monkey to see him glaring at Mary, too, although the tip of his tail twitched. 

"You know why," Mary said gently. She didn't want to  _ say  _ it so plainly to her, as she seemed a bit fragile. It was a big day, after all, moving all of her things in and settling into a new house and a new life. It was metaphorical as much as it was actual, as Marisa was ending an old chapter of her life—one where she was serving the Magisterium and tip-toeing around men and living a fraction of the kind of life she could actually live. 

But  _ that  _ life had included Lyra, briefly in London but also the extended  _ possibility  _ of her as Marisa sought the world high and low for her. And that was something that the therapists and the teachers and all the others involved had made perfectly clear would  _ not  _ happen here, not now or ever. Lyra was not  _ Marisa's.  _ Lyra could not be molded and controlled. No fantasy like that could actually exist. Marisa could be in her life but as distantly as Lyra preferred, and regardless of what Marisa wanted. 

The brunette was quiet as she gazed at Mary, her jaw tensing and her body stiffening. The monkey, however, softened. His beady black eyes rounded as he moved to slump down into a sitting position. He curled his little tail around himself as he gazed up at Mary, telling her exactly what it was Marisa couldn't say. 

"It's not fair," Marisa murmured after a while, looking away and kicking the box over to the side of the room. She stared down at it a moment before bending to pick it up. She took it over to the closet and threw it inside, roughly pushing the sliding door shut. 

"I know," Mary returned, watching her very, very carefully. She kept one hand on the closet now as she continued to stare at it, her breathing heavier than it had been a few minutes ago. Her body moved in sync with her breathing, and she suddenly looked so  _ small  _ for someone who otherwise was truly larger than life itself. 

They didn't talk about it for the rest of the day as they continued to unpack the remainder of Marisa's belongings. She needed to stay busy, of course, as Mary had always known. She had to work so hard that there was nothing else to think about; she had to drain all brain power to avoid any heartache. They rearranged the bathroom and the linen closet and then went back to the kitchen to prepare dinner, which Marisa fussed over as she personally made an overly-complicated ensemble that she normally wouldn't even  _ dare _ to attempt. 

But at night there was nothing left to do except think—about all the things you  _ didn't  _ want to think about but could no longer avoid. Mary heard a small sob come from her right just as she was about to fall asleep. She flicked her eyes open and listened again, wondering if she was imagining it. But it was there, light and tender. She also felt the golden monkey stir from somewhere below by their feet. 

"M'risa?" Mary murmured, turning over to face her. She reached her hand out to feel for her and made contact with the top of her head. She moved her hand down toward her cheek and found moisture there. 

"I miss her," Marisa said after what felt like several minutes, her voice barely a whisper. It was chilling, the way her voice was flat and defeated. Mary had never heard it sound that way before, not when their papers got rejected or when the university staff yelled at them or when the hotel room had sprung a leak that one time and Marisa's favorite dress was ruined. It was most unlike her yet, at the same time, perhaps the realest she'd ever been. 

"I know you do," Mary muttered, unable to properly see Marisa so choosing to lightly draw a circle on the side of her face. 

"Is this what it feels like?" Marisa asked then, turning to face Mary there in the dark. Mary could feel her breath now, warm against her face. She could only see the faintest trace of her silhouette from the moonlight trickling in from the window but could tell she was so, so sad. 

"Is this what  _ what  _ feels like, love?" 

"Moving on," Marisa offered, and her voice broke. Mary heard her quietly cry again, her nose sniffing gently. Mary also could feel her shaking as she continued to sob. It was consuming her now, it seemed like. The weight of it all was finally upon her. 

"Yes," Mary answered, and she moved to capture Marisa into a tight and warm embrace, holding the other woman close. Marisa moved into it and hugged Mary back, her tears now making their way into Mary's frizzy bed hair as she rested her head on Mary's shoulder. 

She would be alright, but not right away. These things took time, Mary understood. Marisa was in a way grieving the loss of a life she could have led with Lyra. And grief like this wasn't linear, wasn't organized, wasn't something you could decide to do one day and then be done with it. This kind of pain was brutal and unforgiving. It was unpredictable and unstoppable and something only Marisa herself could ever fully understand. 

So Mary simply held Marisa, shushing her and rocking her gently as the woman allowed herself to  _ feel  _ the things she'd been trying so very hard not to feel. Mary kissed the back of her head and lightly squeezed her shoulder blade. She began humming a tune under her breath, too, before Marisa began to still and eventually fell asleep, her head still perched on Mary. 

Marisa was moving on, indeed. Moving in and moving on in ways she was only beginning to actually realize. And Mary would be there for her. Mary would always be there for her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Life can be so, so hard! A bit of fun yet also sad and serious science girlfriends 💜


End file.
